


Marked

by seventeensteps



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bruises, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: takes place right after episode viii





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leadsan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leadsan/gifts).



_Again. The rebels got away._

The man stomps down the ramp even before it opens fully. Hux hears a sharp intake of breath from one of the troopers standing in a row to their right.

Ren heads straight for the lift. Hux cannot see his face from this angle, but every single officer and trooper hearing his steps stops in their tracks and quickly disappears from his line of sight. Hux is following him.

The lift opens for Ren, and he gets in, loud steps echoing. Hux catches a glimpse of a pale face. His jaw is set. Ren is silent, but Hux knows the quiet ticking of a bomb. He turns around to face the metallic door as the ascending box moves toward the man’s floor.

“Got bested by a ghost in front of the whole fl-”

The sound of skull against metal rings clearly in his ears, and his vision blurs for a brief moment. The bruises from earlier throb with the beat of his heart. He’s struggling for fresh air, but laughter comes bubbling out of him. It is a weird noise. He can’t quite get used to it. He feels Ren’s fingers tighten, pushing more pressure on his windpipe. Some wicked parts of him delight with the fact that it is something palpable this time.

He scratches Ren’s glove -- Hux despises the thing -- and just when the corners of his vision begin to grey, he can feel the hot breath of the other man against his cheek. For a second, Hux mind goes blank, and then he is released, falling limply to the floor. “You’re disgusting,” the voice comes from above him. Hux almost nods. He is used to it. The door opens quietly at Ren’s quarter.

The echoes of his heavy steps fade away, and then abruptly cut off with the closing door. He carefully stands up, winces, and pushes another button.

The lift descends toward the new destination.

  
  
  


 

 

The hum of machinery in med bay greets him, and Hux steps out, letting familiarity guide him along the narrow hallway. He turns left at the fourth door. As usual, the room is empty, save for some shiny metal arms and two med beds in the middle. He sits on one, and, slowly, peeling off his uniform, all the way to his boots. He shivers once the cold air touches his skin, and cannot help but flinch from the wine-colored bruises blooming across his torso. 

Hux likes it here, just sitting and listening to the soft whirring that surrounds him. Little needles pierce his skin, injecting him with some kind of liquid to accelerate the healing process. All this is just a process, a thing Hux does. Sometimes there is a ritualistic edge to it, but Hux tries not to think about what it means.

Actions, reactions. It reminds him of the dog that salivates when the guy who feeds him enters the room, even if he’s not bringing any food. Hux would like to think of himself as the feeder, but after a while, the image begins to crash into each other, and now he’s not sure anymore who is the dog in that metaphor.

Once the metal arms stop moving, Hux picks up his shirt and carefully puts it on. His body feels numb, but his neck is hot with the phantom touch of long fingers. Hux often finds himself in the middle of a thought about Ren’s hands. They are always warm, if not incredibly hot.

Of course Hux would know that.

He readjusts his collar, and exits the room. Walking back to his own quarter, this is another familiarity, another pattern. Hux values patterns, craves them, right now, especially. Patterns lull you into a sense of security. You know what to expect. He provokes Ren, and Ren hits him. Actions, reactions.

When Hux has a goal – and Hux has always had a goal – he devises a set of patterns, follows them, and work his way forward. That way, he sees which step he has to take, and how he has to do it to get what he wants.

Right now, though, is the second time in his life that he isn’t so sure how to get what he wants.  
Recent events came with too much surprises. Safe to say that Hux hates surprises.

The lift opens at his floor, and, totally unprepared, he’s met with the newest item in his growing list of unexpected events.

Ren is standing there, his back toward him.

Hux sighs, then hand his coat to the cleaning unit, before sitting down in the only chair in the room. There is a gigantic pane in his quarter that, once set to transparent, shows the view of bottomless darkness outside their ship. Ren is standing in front of it, searching for something that cannot be found.

They share the silence.

Hux cannot control the _Force_ , doesn’t understand how it works, and doesn’t like when he’s its target, but he understands people. Ren doesn’t just come down here to have fun.

Ren won’t be the first one to break this silence, dangerously close to comfort, either.

“What do you want, Ren?” Hux turns his chair to face him.

“Careful,” his voice is low, “I outrank you now.”

“Hmm.” Hux doesn’t know what Ren’s thinking, but you can’t find something if you don’t know what that something is. “Pardon me, Supreme Leader.”

Ren’s eyes flash dangerously. He closes the distance between them, and his left hand comes up, rough fingertips dragged across the side of his neck. Long fingers wrap themselves around it, and squeeze, burning an invisible collar into his skin. “You’re so weak, General.”

“Supreme Leader.” The hold is tighter, and the pain is clearer. Hux tilts his head up higher for Ren.

A routine, a pattern. For both of them.

Ren keeps pushing, driving Hux to the brink, and holds him there. “I can kill you.”

Hux wheezes, struggling a little. “I know.” Same old dance, done a hundred times before.

They both know well what is left unsaid.

Ren releases him eventually, and even with the scar, he reminds Hux of young Ben Solo from many years ago. He heads toward the exit, but stops before he crosses the threshold.

“You’re my dog, General.”

“Yes, Ren,” Hux touches his neck, “I am.”

 

And then Ren is gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know?? sorry, and thank you


End file.
